Neal would never admit to Peter what the other man's efforts did for his self-esteem and his general feelings of value. After all he'd, in his mind, sacrificed to go the straight and narrow road for the FBI, the way things had played out stung. Some part of him blamed Peter unconsciously, but only because it was the first time Peter hadn't been able to make something go away. Seeing the lengths he was trying to go to now? Well it did a lot.
The tone in his voice shifted without Neal's notice. Peter always had that ability to naturally draw out the best in Neal when the younger man gave him a chance. Once again, he was going to be a bit more honest than usual for Peter's sake. That sincere tone that he usually only held for Peter was creeping in when he finally responded.
"Give me a couple days, okay? Michael Stanton needs to resign from the Smithsonian via the proper channels or we'll have a world of complication in our laps."
He could accelerate it, blame it on an ailing family member if needed, but he still needed to finish out the week. Hopefully that didn't wrench the lie Peter had told about Neal being in New York and on the up and up.
"And let them try. I can wear a three piece suit in the dead heat of a Manhattan August and I don't sweat."
There was that old attitude and sure-fire attitude Peter was used to. Funny how just a phone call from the older man was enough to change Neal's disposition entirely. It was true. Being both con and man was exhausting. It was nice just being himself when it was only Peter to see, or, in this case, hear.
“Sure. I told him that you needed a few days to clear the safe house you’d been staying in, things like that. As long as you don’t do anything to pop on the rader, you’re good. Free and clear.” He smiled into the phone. He was so happy that this had gone through. It was a far sweeter deal than he’d expected. Maybe more people at the FBI liked Neal than he thought.
Peter laughed into the phone. “You’ll wear it and make it look good. Better than they ever could look in a suit like that. And if it’s a Devore, forget it...”
Peter bit his lip, pausing what he was going to say next. He was sure that Neal could hear it through the phone. He couldn’t hide the hesitation. They were getting everything they wanted, even if the road there was a little longer than expected. “What are you doing tonight? I... I thought I might call you later. Something in private." He sighed. "I wish you were here."
After bailing on Moz with the diamond stint, there was little Neal could fathom wanting to do to put himself on the radar at this point. Peter wanted this, wanted him back at the FBI but Neal wanted it too. Jeopardizing everything his friend had done would have been more than his psyche could handle after learning what had happened when he initially fled. Swapping the phone into his other hand, Neal glanced around to make sure his change in demeanor hadn't been picked up as he'd made his way back into his current 'job.'
"I cannot wait to get out of these... You know I don't know if these suits even have a real brand. There's a name on the label but in the way Kathy Ireland shows up etched on to pots." God he missed the look and feel of Devore. "Admit it, you miss my amazing sense of style. It kept you suits interesting."
Okay he was fishing for compliments but that's sort of what Neal tended to do. Again, another sign he was at least a little bit himself.
"Tonight I'm replacing a bottle of champagne I let go to waste last time I was in New York. You can certainly call." Neal was already planning a toast over the phone for later. "But for now I better let my bosses know my poor, ancient, feeble uncle Peter needs me back home to take care of him."
And yes, his mind went to a place it shouldn’t have with Neal. He blinked and was very glad Neal couldn’t see his face at that moment. He and El were two people who could easily read his face. If Neal saw what he looked like right now, then he might know what he was thinking. And Peter wasn’t ready to voice ‘that’ yet.
“Too bad they don’t fit me, I’d take them.” He snorted into the phone. It was the kind of suits he wore, not Neal. “Diana sure liked them. Though, I think she wanted to buy one to wear for Christy.” He laughed into the phone. “I will admit that you always looked very put together and El admired your style. That’s all you’ll get from me.” Oh yes, Neal always looked good to him.
“Feeble!” He growled into the phone. “I am not... Fine, I’ll talk to you later tonight. I...” He paused. “I can’t wait to see you, Neal.”
There was pure, genuine laughter as Peter started to protest the feeble thing. It even got quiet, reserved 'Michael' a few stares as he headed towards his office. Neal had never typed a resignation letter before. The idea itself seemed so foreign, so... mundane. Their conversation was wrapping up then, and Neal was okay with that. They'd talk again later and soon, soon he'd actually get to see Peter. That was something he was greatly looking forward to.
"I'll call you at 9:00PM tonight." Neal said, making sure they both had an agreed upon time they could talk at length with no interruptions.
A pause.
"...Me too Peter."
A click.
And Neal was off the phone.
---
Later that night, at precisely 9:00 on the dot, Neal had the phone propped between his shoulder and ear as he was pulling on the cork of a champagne bottle. This time around, he actually had something to celebrate.
Peter had gone home from work and had a long talk with El. After a few beers and some loving kisses, an agreement had been made. One he wasn’t ready to broach with Neal yet, but El was okay with it. And that was what mattered. He never wanted to keep secrets with El. Not even white lies. And this was too important to not cover.
At 9:00, Peter was in his office with the door shut. He’d been going over some case files. El was up in bed, having gone to bed early since there was a breakfast meeting the next morning. Beside him, a bottle of beer was sweating. It wasn’t the only thing sweating in that office.
Riiiing.
Peter reached over and answered the phone. “Burke detective agency,” he said playfully into the phone. “We always get our man.”
"What's the bounty you're willing to pay for information that could lead to the surrender of one of the most wanted men of the decade?"
The smile was plain in Neal's voice. There was a sort of 'pop' noise in the background as Neal finally managed to get the cork out of the bottle. After pouring himself some bubbly in a flute, of course he had champagne flutes handy in whatever safe house he'd been living in, Neal settled in for whatever talk Peter wanted to have.
Giving his notice had gone over well. The Smithsonian was genuinely sad to see him go, but they understood family obligations and hard times in life. But, if he did change his mind, there would always be a job in DC for Michael Stanton.
"Oh wow, really?" He leaned back in his chair and sighed into the phone. Gently, he put down his pen and he was glad for the break. This deal he'd been brokering had been hard. It had left him exhausted. He'd be happy when Neal was back in New York and it was all over.
He thought it over a moment. "Well, I don't know. I'm willing to be flexible. I want this guy badly," he teased. "He's such an illusive criminal. One of the best."
He shook his head. He almost didn't want to ask about the quitting now. This was fun. He'd missed the banter.
"Everybody wants this guy, so you're going to have to make a pretty competitive offer."
The back and forth was almost as natural as breathing, at least with Peter. Taking a drink of champagne, the smile on his face only broadened. Soon things would be back to where they had been. His life wouldn't be turned upside down and he didn't need to be ashamed of being Neal Caffrey publicly. That was such a bright light at the end of the tunnel.
"If not the best. Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to get him to come around? You're going to have to make me a good deal Burke."
“Oh, I have lots of resources at my disposal.” He smiled and reached out, taking a long sip of his beer. “Hmm, I don’t know. What does your guy want? Maybe I can put a competitive offer on the table.” He chuckled into the phone.
It was just different. He didn’t have this kind of banter with anyone else. Not El. Not Diana. He knew Neal better than anyone else. “Oh really? Tell me how hard you’ve been working. This, I gotta hear.”
"First I had to talk him out of those hideous suits he'd grown to love." No, really, the suits are a hundred times worse than Peter's ever were. "Then I had to convince him that there was an amazing view in New York. He claimed he wasn't big on views but..."
Pretty much, there hadn't been work to convince himself. There had been fears, doubts, and an intense amount of internal fighting but all of that had been to overcome the apprehension. While Neal would joke, that was the true hard work he'd done. Being the man instead of the con was his greatest challenege to date.
"I think you could convince him with the promise of a friend he can trust."
That part is said softly, with emphasis. He hoped Peter got his point. Peter was the only person, to date, that had never left him or betrayed him.
“Oh, there is nothing wrong with hideous suits.” He chuckled and got up from his chair. Slowly, he began to pace around his office. “Oh, there’s a beautiful view. June’s has a nice view. And then there’s this little house with a dog and a backyard I think you’d enjoy.” His head tilted to the side and he smirked.
He’s glad that not much convincing had to be done. He pauses, biting his bottom lip. "Tell your man that he has a friend here waiting for him. A man that is not only a friend, but he'd take a bullet for him. He loves him that much."
Love. That was a word Neal knew a plethora about and yet it always made him run. Or want to run. See, the problem with Neal and love is everyone that's ever loved him has died, been hurt, or left him. Even love in that friendly sort of way had been hard to come by, with Moz being the only person he could even half way rely on in the last several years. So hearing Peter say it, no matter how he meant it, made him freeze. In a way, he was glad Peter couldn't see him now. What damaged goods he was.
After a long swallow of too much champagne and dragging a hand over his face, Neal's response was soft.
"I think he already knows. But... hearing it probably didn't hurt." Silence. "You know Peter, he'd do the same too."
It's far easier to talk about himself in the third person than actually adress his feelings. Sorry Peter, Neal does have some growing up to do in some ways.
Love was a word Peter didn't throw around lightly. He knew what saying it to Neal might mean. Especially after Kate and Sara. The hesitation and silence is like a long crevice to him that he wants to just bury himself in. He inwardly winces, kicking himself for saying it. Especially not in person.
"I'm glad to hear that. There are very few people that I trust with my life. There are two at the top of the list. Him and my wife." Yes, he ranked Neal right up there with El. He felt awkward about the third person but he'd be willing to put up with it.
Feeling wanted, needed, that was something Peter had given Neal during his time in the FBI, both in the field and out of it. Losing everything he'd had in Manhattan had nearly killed Neal Caffrey for good and it was lucky it was Peter who tried to save him before it was too late. Listening to those words, hearing Peter say what he'd said a few rare times before, Neal couldn't help but smile.
When he spoke again, it was soft and just a bit bashful.
"Well he's done a passable job keeping you alive so far. I'll make sure he keeps it up."
Praise from Peter was always welcomed but sincerity like that always had Neal out of sorts.
It wasn't just Peter. Neal had made him feel wanted too. He would never forget what Neal had said to him so long ago. He had been drugged, which meant it was the most honest he'd ever be. And he said some pretty truthful things. It made him feel wanted too.
"Please do. Without your man in my life, I've been a complete wreck."
Moving back over to his chair, he sat down and took a long chug of his beer. He meant every kind word he had said. And the things he hadn't said too.
The tone in his voice shifted without Neal's notice. Peter always had that ability to naturally draw out the best in Neal when the younger man gave him a chance. Once again, he was going to be a bit more honest than usual for Peter's sake. That sincere tone that he usually only held for Peter was creeping in when he finally responded.
"Give me a couple days, okay? Michael Stanton needs to resign from the Smithsonian via the proper channels or we'll have a world of complication in our laps."
He could accelerate it, blame it on an ailing family member if needed, but he still needed to finish out the week. Hopefully that didn't wrench the lie Peter had told about Neal being in New York and on the up and up.
"And let them try. I can wear a three piece suit in the dead heat of a Manhattan August and I don't sweat."
There was that old attitude and sure-fire attitude Peter was used to. Funny how just a phone call from the older man was enough to change Neal's disposition entirely. It was true. Being both con and man was exhausting. It was nice just being himself when it was only Peter to see, or, in this case, hear.
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Peter laughed into the phone. “You’ll wear it and make it look good. Better than they ever could look in a suit like that. And if it’s a Devore, forget it...”
Peter bit his lip, pausing what he was going to say next. He was sure that Neal could hear it through the phone. He couldn’t hide the hesitation. They were getting everything they wanted, even if the road there was a little longer than expected. “What are you doing tonight? I... I thought I might call you later. Something in private." He sighed. "I wish you were here."
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"I cannot wait to get out of these... You know I don't know if these suits even have a real brand. There's a name on the label but in the way Kathy Ireland shows up etched on to pots." God he missed the look and feel of Devore. "Admit it, you miss my amazing sense of style. It kept you suits interesting."
Okay he was fishing for compliments but that's sort of what Neal tended to do. Again, another sign he was at least a little bit himself.
"Tonight I'm replacing a bottle of champagne I let go to waste last time I was in New York. You can certainly call." Neal was already planning a toast over the phone for later. "But for now I better let my bosses know my poor, ancient, feeble uncle Peter needs me back home to take care of him."
Grin.
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“Too bad they don’t fit me, I’d take them.” He snorted into the phone. It was the kind of suits he wore, not Neal. “Diana sure liked them. Though, I think she wanted to buy one to wear for Christy.” He laughed into the phone. “I will admit that you always looked very put together and El admired your style. That’s all you’ll get from me.” Oh yes, Neal always looked good to him.
“Feeble!” He growled into the phone. “I am not... Fine, I’ll talk to you later tonight. I...” He paused. “I can’t wait to see you, Neal.”
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"I'll call you at 9:00PM tonight." Neal said, making sure they both had an agreed upon time they could talk at length with no interruptions.
A pause.
"...Me too Peter."
A click.
And Neal was off the phone.
---
Later that night, at precisely 9:00 on the dot, Neal had the phone propped between his shoulder and ear as he was pulling on the cork of a champagne bottle. This time around, he actually had something to celebrate.
Riiiing.
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At 9:00, Peter was in his office with the door shut. He’d been going over some case files. El was up in bed, having gone to bed early since there was a breakfast meeting the next morning. Beside him, a bottle of beer was sweating. It wasn’t the only thing sweating in that office.
Riiiing.
Peter reached over and answered the phone. “Burke detective agency,” he said playfully into the phone. “We always get our man.”
Reply
The smile was plain in Neal's voice. There was a sort of 'pop' noise in the background as Neal finally managed to get the cork out of the bottle. After pouring himself some bubbly in a flute, of course he had champagne flutes handy in whatever safe house he'd been living in, Neal settled in for whatever talk Peter wanted to have.
Giving his notice had gone over well. The Smithsonian was genuinely sad to see him go, but they understood family obligations and hard times in life. But, if he did change his mind, there would always be a job in DC for Michael Stanton.
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He thought it over a moment. "Well, I don't know. I'm willing to be flexible. I want this guy badly," he teased. "He's such an illusive criminal. One of the best."
He shook his head. He almost didn't want to ask about the quitting now. This was fun. He'd missed the banter.
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The back and forth was almost as natural as breathing, at least with Peter. Taking a drink of champagne, the smile on his face only broadened. Soon things would be back to where they had been. His life wouldn't be turned upside down and he didn't need to be ashamed of being Neal Caffrey publicly. That was such a bright light at the end of the tunnel.
"If not the best. Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to get him to come around? You're going to have to make me a good deal Burke."
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It was just different. He didn’t have this kind of banter with anyone else. Not El. Not Diana. He knew Neal better than anyone else. “Oh really? Tell me how hard you’ve been working. This, I gotta hear.”
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Pretty much, there hadn't been work to convince himself. There had been fears, doubts, and an intense amount of internal fighting but all of that had been to overcome the apprehension. While Neal would joke, that was the true hard work he'd done. Being the man instead of the con was his greatest challenege to date.
"I think you could convince him with the promise of a friend he can trust."
That part is said softly, with emphasis. He hoped Peter got his point. Peter was the only person, to date, that had never left him or betrayed him.
Reply
“Oh, there is nothing wrong with hideous suits.” He chuckled and got up from his chair. Slowly, he began to pace around his office. “Oh, there’s a beautiful view. June’s has a nice view. And then there’s this little house with a dog and a backyard I think you’d enjoy.” His head tilted to the side and he smirked.
He’s glad that not much convincing had to be done. He pauses, biting his bottom lip. "Tell your man that he has a friend here waiting for him. A man that is not only a friend, but he'd take a bullet for him. He loves him that much."
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After a long swallow of too much champagne and dragging a hand over his face, Neal's response was soft.
"I think he already knows. But... hearing it probably didn't hurt." Silence. "You know Peter, he'd do the same too."
It's far easier to talk about himself in the third person than actually adress his feelings. Sorry Peter, Neal does have some growing up to do in some ways.
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"I'm glad to hear that. There are very few people that I trust with my life. There are two at the top of the list. Him and my wife." Yes, he ranked Neal right up there with El. He felt awkward about the third person but he'd be willing to put up with it.
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When he spoke again, it was soft and just a bit bashful.
"Well he's done a passable job keeping you alive so far. I'll make sure he keeps it up."
Praise from Peter was always welcomed but sincerity like that always had Neal out of sorts.
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"Please do. Without your man in my life, I've been a complete wreck."
Moving back over to his chair, he sat down and took a long chug of his beer. He meant every kind word he had said. And the things he hadn't said too.
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